Uprooted - Short Story

She sat in the garden, she had nothing in particular she wanted to do, certainly didn’t have anyone to see and the empty hours passed with only the sunlight informing her of this occurrence. Being in the garden reminded her of him and she wasn’t ready to give up the memories just yet. He had liked gardening, in her mind she could see him carrying weeds in his hand, dressed only in his shorts as he worked throughout the warm afternoon.

When they were in different countries, waiting to be together, he used to send texts and write emails telling her about what he had done; about the flowers that needed support, the trees he wanted to pull out and the future plans of the plotted space he had been assigned to in this world. When he would call her, her mind lazily listened. His garden brought great pleasure to him as he could maintain the illusion of being able to control his universe. He could decide what would stay and go, what would die and live. Life seemed simple when clear results could be achieved, and only needed a little feeding, watering and weeding to be maintained.

On one of their last days in his garden, he walked near the hammock where she lay and asked her,     

  ‘What are you doing?’ Casually she waved a novel in his direction, her eyes floating from the imaginary world the author had dragged her in to. As she focused, she gently searched his to see if he actually wanted to know. He looked at the novel and then went back to his work. ‘Would you like to go out later?’ he asked.

She had wanted to go out before, and the belated question felt more like an insult to her, knowing that for hours he had put his garden before her, but she was desperate to leave this unknown entity that she rashly agreed to live in. She wanted to explore the area she was now forced to reside.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know, what is there to do here?’ she replied, frustrated that he had no plans in mind. She had only been there for two and a half days.

He was clearly under-prepared for her arrival and it seemed to her that he was determined not to support her through this transition she was undergoing. This was her 6^th home in 5 years and she had just finished the biggest rollercoaster of her life, traveling, working and living in Asia, Europe and Australia, permanently adapting to change.

The last two years in India, the most stressful and exhausting of her life, had stripped her of everything she knew about herself, all her resources and savings, but she kept going because of a promise she made to some beautiful children, determined always to do the best she could. She also underwent a personal storm that ravaged everything she had previously thought was her – she dealt with ashram life, politics and inner change and constantly worked on her self, stripping limitations that popped up more regularly than the springs in the increasingly uncomfortable mattress she had slept upon. She was physically, mentally, emotionally and more worryingly for her, spiritually, exhausted.

She had made a promise to her children and kept it. She felt strongly about promises because a person who keeps their word is a reliable and responsible person, is someone to lean upon when times get tough, when support is needed. Maybe that’s why she always found it easy to keep and maintain friendships; they always knew her word was her truth and that she would stand by whatever she said.

But he hadn’t promised her anything, she could see that now. She had interpreted his offer as a promise of a new life together, but he only meant to offer his body at night, and kettle by day, for everything else she was on her own.

Clarity was dawning on her and she didn’t have the energy, means or strength to deal with it at all.

Soon enough he realised he couldn’t determine where she would be planted, that she was a species that needed more than just water and food. She wasn’t a tree who silently watched his days with no words to say, or a rose giving off sweet scent with only an occasional thorn he could snap off. He also saw that her roots were not strong or deep enough yet, so he still had the power to dictate whether she should stay or go without hacking into them.

It only took four days to uproot, now she sat in a different garden and thought of him.




You can read my short stories here: Gracie's short stories
  


Follow me here...
Twitter: Gracie's Twitter Page
Facebook: Gracie's FB page
Google +: Gracie's Google + page